


Hang fire

by Ryo Hoshi (Hoshi_Ryo)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Family, Free Verse, Gen, Parenthood, Poetry, firearms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshi_Ryo/pseuds/Ryo%20Hoshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Remember when Grandpa found Mom's meteor and then raised her/taught her how to shoot a gun?"</p>
<p>Jake Harley may not be confident that he's raising Roxy well, but he is hopeful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hang fire

**Slap**

She was unexpected,  
A flash in the pan,  
A bright burning star falling;  
        She came on one, you were told.  
You claimed you didn’t believe it.  
  
(You did.)  
  
For now, she would have the best.  
Nannies and boarding schools,  
Because you knew not what do to.  
You were a bachelor, after all.

**Rack**

She was young, so young,  
Too young for you, and she  
Was not interested.  
To tell the truth, neither were you.  
(Your blue ladies were all.)  
But she still came to your room late one night.  
  
“Teach me,” she asked.  
The moon’s light shone through her gauzy nightgown.  
The lace on the hem skimmed the tops of her knees.  
  
The next morning you set out early together.  
You stopped on the way to the range:  
Ammunition and targets,  
And new pajamas for her.  
(Her old was recycled, lint-free cloths for padding glassware.)  
  
Once, long ago, you had been told:  
Girls and guns did not get along,  
Girls were frilly and easily scared,  
Gentle and loving.  
You liked believing things, but  
You were not the red queen.  
  
Your sister had been more forward,  
More daring (though oh how you envied),  
Less scared.  
You had not quite dared ask before you left.  
Later, too much later, you had begged her,  
Apologized for your lack of courage,  
Hoped she would say…  
  
It did not matter, now.  
Now, now, it was time to shine,  
To come through for Roxy,  
Like you had not for Jane.  
  
Relax.  
Breathe,  
Center yourself.  
Aim along the sights,  
Pull the trigger,  
Feel the hammer strike.  
        Misfire.  
  
You weren’t going to do it again.

**Bang**

Roxy sat, calmly, watching.  
The range was quiet,  
Isolated, private.  
(You owned it, through others.)  
  
(Your mother had given you it.)  
  
The day was warm,  
And you set out the targets.  
Five paper ones,  
And a pumpkin;  
She had chosen it,  
And you,  
You couldn’t say no.  
  
You spent so little time with her.  
(Later, she’d tell you, you spent enough.)  
  
She listened attentively.  
The gun is always loaded.  
Safeties aren’t.  
Never point at what you don’t want to shoot.  
  
Firearms down on the bench when the range was cold.  
Make sure the others on the range knew before going live.  
Never, ever shoot when there was somebody downrange.  
  
Your last thoughts would be of how,  
If only she knew,  
Roxy would laugh.  
(Your first as a ghost:  
No teleporting dogs  
No dogs  
Never again.)  
  
(Later still,  
In another life:  
Fuck this shit,  
Let’s try a goddamn bunny.)  
  
(That did not,  
In fact,  
Go well.)  
  
(And let us not speak of the gerbils.)  
  
You had her repeat them,  
Carefully,  
Perfectly,  
Before you opened the gun case.  
Inside, nestled carefully,  
Was a rifle.  
  
It had been your first.  
You had been a teen,  
Long-limbed but still  
Not full grown.  
  
It was the right size for her.  
  
You carefully directed her.  
Down, stomach on the ground.  
Resting the rifle carefully.  
(You adjusted her, gently,  
So it would be properly braced.)  
  
She carefully aimed,  
Finger gently pulling the trigger,  
Slowly, breath calm,  
Rifle steady,  
And with a bang  
  
What pumpkin?  
  
(Elsewhere,  
Later,  
You watch her fight.  
She does you proud.)  
  
(This time, you didn’t fail.)

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, I have read _Narbonic_.


End file.
